Gravity
by seren23
Summary: His breath leaves him and he presses his lips to her forehead and murmurs against her skin, "Serves me right for falling in with the craziest girl this side of the Mississippi." Sequel to Relativity. Beth/Daryl UST. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I cannot thank everyone enough for the amazing reception I received for 'Relativity'. I'm utterly blown away – Thank you! I find that I can't stay away from these two, so here we go with the sequel. (Huge brownie points to fionafox81 for guessing the title of this one!)

Things are picking up right where we left off and I'm still going AU with Beth and Daryl but I'm hoping to tie them into what's been happening to everyone else. The plan is for this to be another three chapter story unto itself, with another story after that, turning the whole thing into a trilogy. Naturally, this is provided life doesn't get in the way! I do hope you like it!

Full disclosure - I know that there are several versions of Beth and Daryl take a bath, but I just couldn't help myself. So here is my version, thank you for indulging me!

* * *

"I want you to keep teaching me," Beth says as they get out of the truck they spent the night in. It's still very early morning and the sun hasn't come up yet. She can see a small star through the tree branches above.

Daryl looks at her. "You sure?"

She nods. "More than ever. Teach me all of it. Everything you can think of."

He looks away before nodding his head once. "How's the ankle?"

"Twingy, but I'm good," she says.

She doesn't want to stop and would like to put more distance between them and the funeral home. Her ankle may be sore, but it's better than it was, so she's happy to keep moving.

"Right. We're going to have to get you something you can sight with, but until we do." He hands her the crossbow. "After you, Ms. Greene."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Dixon," she says sliding past him. He doesn't edge away when she brushes past his side and she wonders if essentially clinging onto him the night before has removed some kind of wall between them.

Either way, it felt good to have him hold her last night.

Better than good.

Real nice, in fact.

If she moves her head slightly, she can still smell the scent of his skin that's soaked into her hair. It smells like oil and man and she likes it. A lot.

Probably too much.

She mentally shrugs her shoulders. Beth never had been one for half measures. When she's in, she's all in and this crush doesn't seem to be going anywhere, so she may as well enjoy what she can of it.

"Where are you taking us?" he asks edging up behind her as they start walking.

"Well, I'm trying to get us to those houses you mentioned," she says. "But I'm also trying to track down some food. We can't live off of grape jelly."

"All right then," he says. He stretches his arm so that it lightly touches her shoulder. "Head that way. The houses are just northeast of here."

Beth glances up at the sky and notices that it's getting lighter, but she can't see the sun.

"How do you know what direction we're going?" she asks as she starts to walk.

"Differences in the light," he says.

"But how?"

"Just do."

She shoots him a glare and he just smirks. "You'll learn," he says. "The more you do it. Keep going."

They head north-east, and only deviate when Beth spots small paw prints on the ground. She quietly tracks a rabbit and when she goes to hand him the crossbow back, he shakes his head.

"All you," he mouths. She frowns and turns back to the small creature a few feet away. She aims and hits the rabbit dead on.

"Ha!" she breathes. "Oh, wow."

"Good shot," he says. "Go get your dinner."

Beth walks over to the rabbit and asks, "Why does that feel better than killing a walker?"

"'Cause killing a walker ain't going to get you anything but messy," he says. He points at the rabbit. "That'll feed you."

"I guess." Beth looks own at the rabbit and pulls the arrow out as carefully as she can. "It feels…cleaner somehow."

He takes the rabbit from her and hangs it from his belt. "It is. It's also the rush you're feeling."

"The rush?" she asks thinking she knows what he's referring to. Her blood's simmering in her veins and she feels like running.

"Yeah," he says starting to grin. "You just spent time tracking something, hunting it, and now you've got it and it's yours. Killing a walker don't mean it's yours. That's just keeping death away from you."

"But that's keeping life with you?" Beth says glancing at the rabbit.

"Something like that, yeah," he says, looking away.

"So, its life that making me want to smile and dance around after getting that?" she asks, grinning.

"Naw," he says grinning back. "That's just you being a crazy girl."

Beth just beams at him and he shakes his head. "Try for a squirrel, now. They're tricky little things."

It takes Beth far too long for her liking to get the arrow in place, but she waves Daryl off when he moves to help her.

"Stubborn," he mutters.

"It's a family trait," she says tightly, her arms straining to pull the bow back. She gets it in place but when she looks up, Daryl looks disgusted.

"Got to get you something easier to use, girl," he says. He shakes his head. "Come on."

It takes her another hour, but she manages to wing a squirrel and she lets herself do a little shimmy. Daryl snorts and she just elbows his side.

They're coming up on the neighbourhood that he spotted the day before and she hands his crossbow back to him as they approach the houses. She goes quiet like he does and she hopes they only run into walkers and not people.

And isn't that a sad commentary on life, she thinks. But watching those walkers descend on the funeral home is still too fresh in her mind.

She keeps close to Daryl as he edges around the first house on the end of the street. They're being stealthy and hardly making a sound and she starts to feel that simmering in her veins again. She bites down on her lip, but can't seem to hold it in.

He glances back and her and stops to ask, "What?"

"What what?" she asks softly.

"You're grinning."

"I am?"

He nods.

"Oh." She turns the corners of her mouth down. "That better?"

"No," he says. "You're still grinning."

"I can't help it."

"Try," he says fiercely. "This ain't no party."

"I know!" she says, clenching her hands into fist to hold in her shivers. "I know that! I don't know why I'm all het up. Maybe it's all the sugar from the jelly?"

"It's 'cause you've gotten a taste for hunting and you're liking the thrill." He makes a face. "Shoulda known you'd be a junkie for this stuff."

"Me?" she asks, eyes going wide. "Why me?"

"Who was it that wanted to burn down a house?" he counters.

Beth pauses. "I see your point." She tries to be serious, but another grin comes through.

"Jesus," he says though without any heat. "Come on and stay quiet."

It's addictive, this 'on edge' feeling and she reckons this is why some people jump out of planes. She's not used to enjoying this kind of anticipation of something happening but she kind of likes it.

She questions whether or not she ought to worry about liking it.

He eyes the street they've come across and Beth wonders who'd lived in these houses. They're fairly big and have nice wraparound porches with large trees dotted about. Daryl steps up onto the porch of one of the closest house, Beth right behind him.

The door is closed, but unlocked. He slips inside and Beth follows. They both pause to listen and he nods at her. She pulls her knife from her belt and they go through the house, room by room. They don't find a single person inside, but things are thrown about so it must have been looted at some point.

"It'll do for tonight," he says when they stop in what must be the master bedroom. "But I don't want to stay here too long."

"What are we going to do?" Beth asks looking through the chest of drawers for another set of clothes. Her jeans are sticking to her in the worst way and she really want another pair of underwear. "I still don't think we're the only ones who made it, you know."

"I know," he says looking through the closet and grabbing a pair of pants and a flannel shirt. "I don't know where to start, though."

Beth pauses and looks out the window. "We need a map. I want to know where we are. There was a study downstairs?"

"Yeah," he mutters.

Beth grabs the clothes she's found, knowing they may be looser than she'd like and heads downstairs to the study.

It's the one room that looks like it hasn't been completely tossed. She stares at the bookcase, noting all the shiny hardback covers and wonders if the owners ever actually read the books or just bought them because they look nice. The desk is a mess of papers and old checkbooks, but in one of the drawers, she finds a Rand McNally road map of Georgia with nary a crease on it.

"Ha!" she says. "Knew it."

"Find one?" Daryl asks coming into the room.

"Yep." She opens it and spreads it on the desk. Her eyes immediately find her hometown and she presses a finger on it. Then she moves her finger across the map in the direction they'd headed after leaving the farm. She frowns when she can't quite make out where the prison was located.

"Where was the prison?" she asks Daryl who's come up right behind her.

He jabs at a spot on a county road. "Thereabouts. We've been going north, northeast since we left it."

"Okay," she says. She studies the map, then points. "Looks like there's a railroad track nearby. Do you think folks might have gone towards that?"

"I wouldn't've."

She gives him a look. "Pretend for a second that you aren't Daryl Dixon, Tracker and Wildman Extraordinaire – where would you go?"

He sighs. "Probably towards the tracks. They'll lead somewhere, but keep you on the edge of towns."

"Maybe that's where we should start?" she asks.

"Maybe." He's frowning and studying the map intently.

"We need a highlighter," she says rifling in the desk. "To mark where we're going."

She can't find one and decides to try the kitchen. After finding one in a drawer that held mostly junk, Beth peeks through the back door. She sucks in a breath when she spots something.

"No way," she says under her breath.

She opens the door and looks around before stepping onto the deck. Then she eyes the covered hot tub in front of her.

The stiff plastic cover looks like it hasn't been moved in some time, but she's hesitant to just lift it off. She turns to go get Daryl and runs right into him.

"Jesus!" she gasps, her hands grabbing at his vest to keep herself upright.

"Looks like your next tracking lesson is going be on hearing better," he says, his hands cupping her elbows. He nods at the hot tub. "You want a bath?"

"Thinking about it," she says, taking a step back. "My hair needs washing." She smirks at him. "Your hair needs washing."

He runs a hand over his head and says, "What're you talking about? This is redneck chic, right here."

Beth snickers. "Don't mean it couldn't stand a rinse. Or five."

She turns back to the hot tub and feels him take point just by her shoulder as she starts to lift up the cover. It's heavy, but there's nothing in the tub except water and she breathes a sigh of relief as she moves the cover as silently as she can.

After staring at the clean water for a second, she dips her hand in. "Not bad. Kinda cool."

"Well, go on, if you're gonna," he says turning his back and looking out over the backyard.

"Awesome," she says happily. "I'll be right back."

She goes into the house and back up to the master bath. She grabs towels, bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and a brush. She feels a pang of wrongness at using someone else's brush. It feels terribly intimate and she can only hope that the owner would understand.

Beth practically pulls her boots off before she's back on the deck and the rest of her clothes follow. Daryl makes some kind of noise, but he's not looking her way.

"You're next," she says stripping down to her bra and underwear.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters. "Get on with your bath."

She steps into the tub and cringes. "Cooler than I thought."

"Stop whining and get on with it," is the reply.

Beth takes a deep breath and sinks below the surface of the water. It feels glorious. She emerges and immediately starts scrubbing at her arms with the bar of soap. She checks her ankle and while it's still bruised, it doesn't feel too bad. She soaps up and rinses off twice. Then she goes to take her hair down. But when she pulls on her hair band, it barely moves.

"Oh, crap," she mutters, tugging at the band, but it's firmly entangled in her wet, knotty hair.

"Problem?" Daryl asks, from where he's standing watch.

"Sort of," she says, still trying to get her hair out of the elastic. She drops her hands when she realizes it's not budging. She eyes Daryl's back and knows she doesn't really have a choice. Not unless she wants to walk around with a rat's nest for hair for the rest of her life. "Don't suppose you could do me a favor?"

"I ain't doing your nails," he says not looking over at her.

"Funny. Could you come here and cut this elastic out of my hair?" she asks.

She watches his shoulders tense and regrets asking. The last thing she wants to do to Daryl is make him uncomfortable and that's precisely what she's done.

"Or, just hand me my knife and I can do it. Probably," she adds, feeling the knots around the hairband.

"Nah, I got it," he says turning around.

She catches sight of his eyes, blue and clear, before she turns her back and points at the band. "Just cut it. I can find another one."

His footsteps seem loud on the deck as he approaches her and she breaks out into goosebumps that are only partially a result of the cool water. She hears him crouch down behind her and take out his knife, the rasp of the metal against the leather case sending shivers down her spine. Shivers of something she's not sure she wants to really name even in her own head.

"Lean back a bit," he murmurs and she leans against the side of the tub.

His hand settles just under her ponytail, his palm cradling the back of her head perfectly. Too perfectly. Like it's meant to be there or something and Beth finds she's lost the capacity to breathe.

There's a sharp tug and then her hair's falling in waves onto her shoulders. She sighs at the familiar feel of it and gets her breath back.

She turns to thank him, but he's already back at his spot on the edge of the deck, his back to her.

"Thank you," she calls to him anyway, as she pushes into the water and wets her hair.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Sure."

She washes her hair three times and then loads it with nearly half the bottle of conditioner. She rinses as best she can and then gets out of the tub. She dries off, quickly changes her old underwear for the new pair, and pulls on the jeans and the shirt.

"Your turn," she says cheerfully, trying real hard to cover up the fact that her blood's started to simmer again, but it's not because of adrenaline. Or well, it is because of adrenaline, but not the hunting kind of adrenaline. It's Daryl Dixon-induced adrenaline and its making life very complicated in her opinion.

He turns and doesn't quite meet her eyes; just shoves the crossbow at her and starts to unbutton his shirt.

Beth sits down on the steps to the deck and sets the crossbow down next to her. She starts to brush out her hair, beginning at the tips and working up like her mama taught her.

She hears a curse behind her as he gets into the tub.

"Going to smell like a garden," he says grumpily.

"Produce section," Beth calls over her shoulder as she works on a particularly tricky knot of hair.

"What?" he says, voice muffled as he washes his face.

"You're going to smell like the produce section," she repeats. "The shampoo has cucumber and pear in it."

"Jesus," he mutters. It goes quiet behind her and she figures he's slipped below the surface.

There's a rustle in the bushes a few feet away and Beth drops her brush and pulls up the crossbow. Two walkers stagger out and Beth takes aim. She drops one of them with an arrow to the eye. She grabs her knife and is down the stairs so fast she doesn't even remember going down them and grips the walker's neck, and then she rams the knife up and into the brain.

The walker crumbles to the ground and Beth stands over it, her knife still in her hand. She grimaces at the gore on her once clean skin and turns to say something to Daryl.

She freezes.

He's standing straight up, still in the tub, naked with only a pair of clinging boxers on. He's tan and his stomach is flat and his arms are just…God.

His hair is swept off his face and she's not sure if she's ever had such a clear view of his eyes before. Said eyes are just staring at her, all intense and steady. And the look is back in his eyes. The one from the night before. The one that says he sees her. All of her. And that he likes what he sees.

Good God, almighty, she thinks absently looking back at him, feeling a mixture of pride in her kills, lust (oh, looks like she's naming that feeling after all), and like she's some kind of prey in his sights. This is no crush and I'm in so much trouble here.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I apologize in advance at where I leave this chapter – but I promise to make up for it. Eventually. To be honest, I'm a little disgusted with myself for ending things there, but all in good time! Y'all are wonderful – thank you so much for reading this!

* * *

Beth quickly looks away from Daryl as he sinks back down into the water. He drops so fast, that Beth might find it funny if she could, you know, breathe.

"Sorry," she says, turning her back and making a face at herself.

"S'fine," he mutters.

Beth busies herself with wiping the gore off her knife while she hears him get out of the tub and dry off. She turns when she hears a zipper being pulled up and she hopes she's schooled her expression into something normal. Something that doesn't scream: Take me now! or Leave your shirt off!

She's had crushes before. Heck, she's had boyfriends. But she hasn't felt like this. Like there's some kind of force pulling her in his direction. She feels like she's circling around something and sooner or later she's going to crash into it. That 'it' being Daryl and whatever it is that he might feel for her.

Dang it, her blood's simmering again. She clenches her fist and the muck from the walker squelches between her fingers and she grimaces. Her blood stops simmering and she thinks she's found the cure to Daryl Dixon inspired lust – looking at blood and God knows what all over your hands. She heads up to the tub and catches sight of Daryl slipping his leather vest on over his flannel shirt and she sees a small strip of his stomach and her blood starts simmering again.

Nope, she thinks. Not even walker guts can turn this off. Aw, hell.

"We should eat something," Beth says aiming for a normal tone and mostly succeeding as she goes to the tub to wash her hands off. "I think the stove is a gas one. We could give it a try."

"Or it could blow us to kingdom come when we light it up," he says peering in at the kitchen.

"I didn't smell any gas," Beth says, wiping her hands dry on her jeans and walking over to him.

He grabs his crossbow. "Better not risk it. I'll go off a little ways and cook them up. Don't want to attract anything to us with the smell."

"Wait," she says. "I'll go with you."

"Don't have to," he says and she knows that tone. It's Daryl's shy, awkward tone and Beth isn't going to let him get all weird on her.

"It's part of training me," she says, putting her hands on her hips. "You haven't shown me how to skin these things yet and I figure that's something I should learn."

He eyes her. "It ain't pretty."

She eyes him right back. "Is anything pretty these days?"

Her cheeks flush when he doesn't look away straight off and now it's her turn to go all awkward and shy as she bites her lip and hunches in on herself slightly.

"I just mean," she says trying to recover and knowing her cheeks are the color of tomatoes. "I want to learn. I need to learn."

"All right," he says holding his hands up. "Know better than to argue with a Greene girl by now."

"Good," she says grinning.

He turns to look out at the walker bodies and squints his eyes. "Don't know about sleeping here tonight though. Feels too open."

"Should we go back into the woods?" she asks.

"Was actually thinking about that," he says pointing up at a tree across the street.

Beth looks where he's pointing and laughs. "Always wanted to sleep in a treehouse."

Truthfully, it doesn't look like much of a treehouse from where she's standing. More of a deck perched in a tree. But, it's off the ground and they'd have a good view of the neighborhood.

"Grab your stuff and anything else you think you need," he says, getting his crossbow and his own bag. "And get that map."

Beth goes back into the house and grabs her bag and the map from where she left it. She looks through the bedroom one more time and on impulse grabs a pair of scissors out of the bathroom. She can hear Daryl going through the kitchen cabinets. She grabs some more underwear and socks, then goes back downstairs. Stopping by jackets that have been left on hooks by the front door, she takes a small denim one and tries it on. The sleeves are a little longer than she'd like, but it feels sturdy enough.

Wordlessly, she follows Daryl out the back door, which they close behind them. On silent feet, they walk across the street towards the treehouse.

"I'll go up," Beth tells him. "You cover me."

"You sure?" he asks.

Beth nods and grips her knife in her hand. Daryl steps back and takes aim at the platform where planks of wood nailed to the tree lead up to. Beth looks to him and he nods.

She starts climbing. The planks are sturdy under her hands and feet, but her stomach's anxiously churning. She pauses when she reaches the top. Then, as quietly as she can, she places a hand on the platform and raises herself up just enough to peek in.

"It's empty," she calls down softly as she pulls herself up the rest of the way.

It isn't a proper treehouse, there are no walls to it, just a simple wooden rail that goes around the length of the platform. There's a small wooden stool in the middle of the floor and a few weathered magazines. Beth glances at them and chuckles to see a Tiger Beat and a Seventeen mixed in with some National Geographics.

There's a thump behind her as her bag lands on the floor after Daryl tossed it up. She hears the creak of the planks as Daryl climbs up.

"Not bad," he says coming to stand beside her. "Let's go cook up Thumper."

"Ugh," she says, shoving his side. "Jerk."

"You wanted to learn," he says.

She glares at him. "I'm going to get real tired of you saying that."

He just smirks and points at the rabbit and squirrel. "Come on, Greene. Grab your knife."

Daryl takes them close to the edge of the woods from where they originally came from and Beth get to making a fire.

"Get the rabbit ready first," he says. "It can cook while we're working on the squirrel."

"What do I do?" Beth asks as she sits down, determined to not get squeamish over innards and stuff. She grew up on a farm, and besides, nothing could possibly be more disgusting than walker bits.

"Take your knife and cut a line down the middle," he says, crouching next to her. He points to where she should pierce the skin and his arm presses against her shoulder. The warmth of his body settles her nerves somewhat and she does what he tells her.

She soaks up everything he instructs while a small voice in the back of her head is constantly bouncing up and down whenever he touches her.

Shut up, she tells it. I'm busy here.

The voice ignores her and continues its play by play.

She skins the rabbit making a mess of one the back legs so much that she has to throw that bit away. She gets it onto the spit and then starts in one the squirrel, which is much trickier.

"Crap," she says when things go a little icky and she cuts too deep. "Sorry."

"You're doing all right," he says. "Better than my first try. Must be your little fingers."

She shoots him a quick glare. "I actually have done this before, in biology class. We had to dissect a fetal pig one month."

"Why?" he asks frowning.

"To learn something, I guess?" She shrugs. "It wasn't my favorite part."

She peels a bit of the fur off and decides she's done enough damage to the little critter. She turns the rabbit and sets the squirrel over the fire, too.

Late afternoon is settling in and the light's going slowly orange as the sun makes its way down. Beth stares at the fire and listens to the world around them.

"You liked school?" Daryl asks after a few minutes.

Beth glances at him, surprised at the question. "Aspects of it. I liked my friends and I liked chorus. History could be interesting and I liked reading." She wrinkles her nose. "I would've liked science a whole lot more if it'd had less math." She turns their dinner over. "I mean, I liked learning about the concepts. The way stuff in the world works, but I hated all those equations."

"Yeah," he says rubbing his chin. "I kinda liked math, myself."

"Yeah?" she asks looking at him.

He shrugs. "It made sense a lot of the time. You've got one thing on one side. You do something to it and it changes it on the other side. Subtract something, you get less. Add it, you get more." He shrugs again. "Keeps things real simple."

"And you like simple?" she asks.

"Better than complicated," he says, not looking at her and digging in the ground with his knife. "Bunny's about to drop."

Beth frowns and looks at the fire. "Oh, crap!" She quickly takes the rabbit off the fire before it can fall into the flames. She sets it down on the grass and Daryl chuckles. "Oh, hush," she says. "Tell me you've never done that."

"Ain't a liar," he says.

"You sure aren't," she says handing him a good three quarters of the rabbit. "I think you're the most honest person I know."

She can feel him watching her as she takes the squirrel off the fire and she wonders what he's thinking. Is she just a complication in his life that he'd be better off without? Or does he want her around? Does his blood start fizzing in his veins when she looks at him the way hers does when he's looking at her?

Beth tears into her rabbit with a bit more violence than she means to, but she's really not sure what to do with herself now that she's pretty sure that this crush of hers has deepened into something more. She feels restless and has the urge to do something dramatic and even finds that she's eyeing a house nearby wondering what it would look like if she set fire to it.

Oh, for Pete's sake, Bethy, Maggie's voice says in her head. You are such a drama queen. You could just ask him, you know.

She chokes on her rabbit at the thought of actually asking Daryl Dixon about his feelings and has to grope for her water bottle.

"You dying over there?" he asks, his mouth full of rabbit.

"Not yet," she manages between coughing. "Went down the wrong way."

"Well, don't let it," he says. "Hate to see Thumper be the end of Beth Greene."

She glares at him, but he just looks back at her, with no hint of teasing in his eyes.

"You really are the honest person I know," she breathes, feelings of trust, respect, and love (May as well admit it, Bethy, Maggie's voice says) swirling inside her.

"Saves time," he says going back to his rabbit. He's eating quickly now and Beth's fairly sure that means sharing time is over.

She finishes off her rabbit and breaks off some of the squirrel for herself, handing the rest to Daryl.

They put out the fire and head back to the treehouse.

"Be right there," Daryl says, veering off towards the house. Beth stares after him, but then heads up the tree. She looks out over the neighborhood and realizes that there are more houses than she thought. Most have white exteriors and big porches. Movement catches her eye and she spots a walker a block away shuffling next to a rose bush. Daryl comes out of the house and Beth grins.

He's carrying what looks like two comforters that he must've taken off the beds. When he gets to the treehouse, he lobs them up at her and she stumbles back when she gets a face full of fabric. They smell a little musty, but they're soft and Beth arranges them on the floor of the platform.

"Thank you," she says when Daryl climbs up.

He just gives his usual shrug. "Hand me that map."

She gives it to him and he sits one on the comforters, and she settles next to him. Absently, she grabs the brush from before and starts in on her hair again. She hadn't put it up after her bath and it's getting tangled.

Daryl frowns at the map and then points. "We're here." Beth leans in. "We've gotta head up the street then make a left. That'll take us out of the houses and towards the tracks. If that's still what you want to do."

"I still want to," she says nodding. "It makes sense, doesn't it? Going towards something that leads out of the area?"

"Reckon so," he says, rubbing at his forehead. "Want to look in some of these houses in the morning, though. You need something other than that knife."

"Another crossbow?" she asks.

"If we can find one," he says. He eyes the houses below. "Don't think these folks were big outdoors people, though. Might find a rifle though."

"Won't that be too loud?" she asks.

"Better'n nothing."

She can't disagree and finishes brushing a section of her hair. She flips it over her shoulder and it lightly hits Daryl's shoulders.

"Sorry," she says smiling.

"Sure got a lot of hair for a little thing," he says looking her over.

"I know," she sighs. "I think I should probably cut it some. What do you think?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Do I look like I know that answer?

"Yes," she says firmly. "For hunting and tracking and you know, being all stealthy. Would it be better shorter?"

"It's your damn hair," he says. "All that matters is that it stays out of your way and that people can't use it against you."

She makes a face. "That's what I thought. Right." She gets up and rummages in her bag for the scissors she nabbed earlier, then she pushes the comforter so that she sits on the bare floor. "I'm going for it. I might need you to do the back." She looks at Daryl, who has an expression on his face akin to a deer in headlights. She rolls her eyes. "I'm not cutting it all off. Just a few inches to make my ponytail shorter."

He still looks wary.

"It doesn't have to be perfect," she says smiling and taking off her jacket and shirt, leaving her in a tank top. "I'm not picky. See?"

She creates a section of her hair and thinning it between her index and middle finger, she snips close to three inches off the bottom. A blonde clump of hair falls to the floor.

"Jesus," Daryl says sounding impressed. "You just went for it. Christ."

"Why fuss over hair?" she says with a kind of carelessness she almost feels. "It'll grow back."

She keeps cutting her way around her head and is aware the entire time that Daryl is not taking his eyes off of her. He watches as she shakes out her fingers that are cramping from holding the scissors too tightly and as she shakes her head to get the cut hair off. Her hair now falls to skim the tops of her shoulders and it feels pretty good. Less of an actual weight on her head.

Beth grins at him and then turns around. "Is it even in the back?"

She hears him clear his throat and says, "Not quite. You missed a bit."

"Have at it," she says, holding the scissors over her shoulders.

He clears his throat again. "Sit on the stool so I can get to it better."

"Okay," she says. Her heart is pounding in her chest and she cannot tell if she is an idiot for asking him to do something that's going to involve him putting his hands on her, or if she's a genius for asking him to do something that's going to involve him putting his hands on her.

Maggie's voice snickers in Beth's head but stays quiet otherwise.

Beth sits on the stool and Daryl moves up onto his knees behind her.

His hand skates over her hair, from the top of her head down and her skin prickles and tingles and breathing becomes an issue again.

He pulls on her hair gently and the back of his hand rests against her bare skin above the edge of her tank top. The sound of the scissors echoes in the treehouse. His hand slides against her skin as he moves along to the next section.

He does this four more times before saying, "Looks pretty even now."

Beth takes comfort in the fact that his voice sounds ragged and hoarse. She doesn't consciously want to cause him discomfort, but she feels ready to explode so it's nice to know that this is affecting him, too.

"Thank you," she says and for a moment, she doesn't recognize her own voice. It's much lower and sounds just as ragged as his does.

He makes a sound deep in his throat when he hears it and she freezes.

Then, softly and so unbelievably gently, his fingers slip through the strands of her hair to touch the back of her neck. They slide her hair to the side and her hair spills over her shoulder. His fingers trace back the way they came and Beth gives up trying to breathe.

His hands splay out on the back of her shoulder, his palm big and heavy on her skin. His thumb sweeps down across her shoulder blade, dipping beneath her top and then back up; her breath hitching at the feel of it.

He pauses, but then he moves his thumb once more, adding the slightest pressure, and she can't stop the moan-gasp-sound that comes out and she turns around to face him.

Daryl's eyes are narrowed but clear and bright as they stare at her. He glances down at his hand like he's not sure what it's up to. In fairness, she's not sure what she's up to, only that she doesn't want him to stop touching her. When she turned, his hand trailed over her shoulder and it's now resting on her collarbone. He trails his thumb across the bone and Beth shivers when his calluses catch on her skin.

Beth doesn't know what to do and all the voices in her head have gone quiet and she only knows that she wants this to continue, so she keeps still, not wanting to spook him.

He looks almost worried as his other hand rises and touches her face. His fingers trace the curve of her cheek and when she turns her face into his palm, he makes a sound like he's been punched in the gut and he stops.

"Hold up," he breathes.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So, apparently I'm now evil after that last chapter. I do apologize, I don't know what came over me! I'm not sure how happy everyone is going to be with me after this one either, BUT! There are now two more stories to follow this one: **Chaos** and **Fusion**. My basic premise is to eventually have Beth and Daryl become the Bonnie and Clyde of Decatur County. Minus the getting gunned down by the FBI.

I hope you enjoy this last installment of Gravity and I hope to be back next week with the next story. You all are wonderful and thank you so, so, so much for all of your encouragement!

* * *

"Hold up," Daryl says.

The sound that comes out of Beth's mouth is very much like a whimper.

"What?" she asks breathlessly.

"We…" He swallows hard, one hand still cupping her face and the other pressing on her collarbone. "This ain't…Beth, this ain't…What are we doing?"

"Well, I was two seconds away from kissing you," she says rather matter-of-factly considering she feels like she's on fire. "But I'm having second thoughts now."

His eyes stare into hers. "Good."

"Why?" she asks through gritted teeth, her hand coming up to grip his wrist. "Give me a reason."

"I can give you a bunch."

"I only want one."

"Your father-"

"No," she says harshly, leaning towards him, her eyes narrowing. "Try again."

His eyes drop from her face. "Beth, I ain't what you want."

"Yes, you are," she says firmly.

He shakes his head. "I ain't."

Beth has no idea where her courage is coming from, but she surprises them both by sliding off the stool and straddling his lap. He falls back on his heels with a grunt and just stares at her with wide eyes, the hand on her collarbone falling to grip her hip.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Attempting to talk sense to you by making sure you don't run away," she says, although her new position is causing parts of her body to start singing loudly and she has to push her lust to the side.

"Girl…" he says warningly, his hand tightening on her hip.

"There is something here," she says, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Now, I don't know if it's just because we're all we've got at the moment or if it's love," Daryl's body jerks underneath her, "or if it's, I don't know, the beginnings of some kind of friendship or something. But there is something." She pokes his chest. "Here." She slumps a little, her face falling and her courage flagging. "Right?"

He stares at her and looks so helpless, she almost crawls away, but then he breathes, "Right. But baby, I can't be what you want."

"You are," she says softly. "I mean, I won't call it something flowery or get all sentimental, but you're something important to me and I think I'm something important to you."

He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. "You are. I don't know what it is, but you are. But…"

"No," she says, cupping the back of his head. "No 'buts'. It's just us and that's good. For now."

"Good," he says on a deep breath. "'Us' is good. I can do 'us'. For now."

Beth winds her arms around his neck and presses in close and just hugs him. His arms wrap around her waist and one and tangles in her freshly cut hair. They're so close and Beth can't tell if it's her heart that's beating so fast or his.

She sighs, adjusts and tightens her grip, running her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. His arms tighten around her and she thinks she's never felt so safe and cared for in her life. She doesn't want it to end, but night has fallen and someone needs to be on watch.

He must feel the same, because his arms loosen and she pulls back a little.

"You sleep," he says, not quite looking her in the eyes. "I'll take first watch."

Like she can sleep, her body's a big old mess of randomly firing synapses and her mind is spinning, so she asks, "You sure?"

"Yeah," he says, hands still settled on her hips. "You caught dinner. You get first sleep."

"Fair enough," she says and she slides off his lap. A noise rumbles up from his chest and her own breath stutters when certain body parts come into contact with other body parts. They freeze and stare at each other.

"Christ," he says, shaking his head, his cheeks bright red. "Go to sleep, Greene."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Dixon," she says, trying for a flirty tone. It must work, because he shoots her a glare.

"Girl," he warns.

"Hey, I'm not the one who called half-time," she says, pulling her shirt and jacket on, then curling up in one of the comforters. "So, you just sit there on watch and think about all the making out we could be doing right now."

"Don't," he says pointing a finger at her.

She just smiles and snuggles into the comforter. Daryl sits on the stool and arranges it so that his back leans against the trunk of the tree. He drops his hand to rest on her head, by her ear.

The feel of his fingers running through her hair lulls her into a dreamless sleep.

She wakes easy when he shakes her shoulder for her watch. She takes his place on the stool, copying his position from earlier and lets her hand rest on his head, softly combing through his hair.

"'S nice," he murmurs.

"Yeah," she says. "Sleep."

He hums and a few seconds later, his breathing deepens and she knows he's fast asleep.

Beth stares out over the large houses and darkened lawns. The moon isn't quite all the way full, but there's enough light to see by. She counts all the cars in the streets and sees the walker she spotted earlier has wandered into another garden and is trampling through a hydrangea bush.

She sighs and while she's fairly sure they did the right thing by not rushing things and that if she digs deep, she knows she's not actually in the best frame of mind to be considering anything romantic or serious but…she _really_ wants to know what kissing Daryl Dixon is going to feel like.

'Cause it's going to happen now; she knows this. But she's patient, she can wait until the right time.

Still…the feel of his body underneath hers flashes in her mind and she desperately tries to distract herself by thinking up Mary Chapin Carpenter's song lyrics.

The sun hasn't quite risen when she gets Daryl up. They both stretch and eat a full can of peaches, the juice staining their lips. Then they carefully climb out of the treehouse. She gives it a fond glance good-bye and then follows Daryl towards the road that will lead them out of the sub-division and towards the train tracks.

He stops in front of a house that looks a little more rundown than the others and circles around the side of it towards the backyard. After looking around, he goes to the shed, Beth fast on his heels.

"What are you doing?" she asks as he jimmy's the lock on the shed.

"Looking for a weapon for you," he says.

The lock gives and he slowly opens the door. It's filled with old Christmas decorations and boxes of junk.

Daryl shifts the boxes around and then mutters, "Booyah."

"What'd you find?" she asks watching him pull something out of plastic bin. Her eyes widen when he holds up what he found. "No way!"

It's a small crossbow, much smaller and lighter than his own as it looks to be made from some kind of plastic instead of steel. He hands it to her and it feels too light to do much damage, but maybe…

She holds it up and takes aim. "Will it work?"

He shrugs. "Only one way to find out. You'll have to make your own arrows. Give 'em sharp points, but it could do the job. Won't be able to fire it from as good a distance as mine, but better than a knife up close."

"Can we try it out?" she asks. "I saw a walker over by some hydrangeas?"

"Bloodthirsty girl," he chuckles. "Yeah, let's try it."

He roots around and manages to find the arrows that go with it. "Huh," he says. "Definitely got to sharpen the tips. Come on."

She keeps an eye out while he quickly sets his knife to the arrows. Then he hands them over and she arms the crossbow. It's much easier to pull the bow back and because it's so easy, she's dubious as to whether or not this will actually work.

"It feels kind of flimsy," she says hefting it in her arms.

"Well, don't go braining anyone with it," he says as they head towards the house with the walker in the yard. "It might fall apart on you."

The walker is still caught in the hydrangea bush and they sneak up on it quietly. Beth takes aim at its head and squeezes the trigger.

The arrow flies sharply through the air but hits the walker's neck instead of the head. The walker jerks, the turns around, and spots them. Cursing, Beth quickly reloads and takes aim again as the walker starts to shamble towards them. This time, she aims the bow higher and the arrow goes straight into an eye.

The walker drops, its body draping over the bushes.

Beth lets out a deep breath and lowers the crossbow. "The aim's off a little. I have to aim higher than I should."

"Yeah," Daryl says. "It's got more power than I thought it would, though. You're just going to have to make sure your aim is true."

Something in his voice makes her stop examining the bow and look up at him. They haven't mentioned their conversation from the night before, but there's a look in his eyes and his hand rises as if he's going to touch her shoulder. But he pulls his hand back and pretends to scratch the back of his head.

"Just aim true," he mutters looking at the walker.

Beth nods and presses her hand on his arm. "I will." Then she goes to pull her arrows out of the walker's body. She inspects them and says, "They're sturdier than I thought."

"Good," he says walking up the steps of the house they're next to. "Just want to see if there's anything good in here."

Beth looks up at the large white house with the porch. She squints and notices that one of the windows is open on the second floor. She hurries up after Daryl who's standing in the hallway and looking around.

"What?" she asks quietly when she sees his narrowed eyes and the tense set of his shoulders.

"Big group was here," he says pointing at the large boot prints on the carpet. "Not too long ago."

"What? You mean like hours?" Beth asks, rubbing her suddenly chilled arms and looking around.

"Nah, like a day or so," he says shaking his head. "We should move on."

Beth nods. "Let's just do a quick check, just in case there's something good."

"Don't think there will be, but knock yourself out," he says. "I'll check upstairs."

Beth goes towards the kitchen and looks through the cupboards. She finds a can of pineapple rings in juice in the far back of one and puts it in her backpack. She goes back to the hallway and glances into the bathroom. She freezes and her heart starts to pound.

On the floor is a shirt that she recognizes. The last time she saw that shirt, it and the wearer of it were on their knees next to her daddy.

Beth steps into the bathroom and picks up the shirt. It's stained and slightly damp and she just _knows_.

Her fingers tighten on the shirt and she whirls around to find Daryl, but he's already heading down the stairs.

"There's a walker up there and looks like there was a big old fight in the bathroom…what? What is it?" he asks when he sees her face.

She holds up the shirt. "This is Michonne's shirt."

He looks at it and cocks his head to the side. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," she says nodding. "This is hers. _Daryl_. Michonne's alive!"

He glances up the stairs. "Or she was a day ago."

"Daryl," she says walking over to him. "She's alive. If anyone could make it, she could."

"Hell yeah, she could. But," he says lifting up a corner of the shirt. "We don't know."

"Then we find out." She heads towards the door. "You can track her, right? You know her tread, right?"

He sighs. "Yeah, I know it. But don't get your hopes up. There's been a lot of traffic in this house and any of her tracks could be covered up by now." He meets her eyes. "Or worse."

Beth goes cold and she remembers the walkers beating their hands on the funeral home door and the sound of that engine idling nearby. "In that case, we'd better find her."

Daryl holds her gaze for moment longer, then nods. "All right then."

They head out the door, Beth stuffing Michonne's shirt into her pack. She lets Daryl take point and holds tight to her crossbow.

His eyes are fixed on the ground and he grimaces. "Lots of boots around here."

He walks on a bit further, frowns, then walks up a grassy bank and stops. "Son of a bitch," he mutters.

"What?" Beth goes up the bank to stop by him.

He points at the ground and puts his boot alongside a shoe print. A smaller shoe print than his by a couple of inches. Beth looks at him and he's grinning.

"Looks like Michonne and the family Grimes are travelling together," he says.

"No!" Beth breathes. "Both of them? Rick and Carl? What about Judith?"

Daryl's grin drops off his face. "Don't know about li'l asskicker. But I know those are the Grimes boys, sure enough."

Beth grabs his arm. "We gotta go after them."

"Yeah," he says rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand and walking ahead, eyes still fixed on the ground. "We wouldn't be the only ones."

"What do you mean?" she asks, following him and looking at the ground. She sees several boot prints and they soon start to cover up Carl's smaller print. "That group. It's following them, too?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Daryl doesn't answer, just darts a look at her. "Oh," she says, that cold feeling washes over her again. "Daryl, we've got to find them."

"If they're still alive," he says stopping when they reach the road that leads out of the neighborhood.

"There's a chance they are," she says thinking hard as she looks down the road. She faces Daryl. "And I think that's a chance we've got to follow up on."

His brows furrows and he hmm's as he looks down the road. He turns and says, "Keep tracking."

Beth follows him, keeping her eyes open as they walk away from the houses. They come across the train tracks much sooner than she expects and they stop in front of a sign that reads 'TERMINUS – Those who arrive, survive' with a map just below the text.

"They'd follow it," Beth breathes as she steps up and traces a route with her finger. "You know they would."

"Yeah, they would," Daryl says scowling. "Damn fools."

"You don't think it's real?" she asks glancing at him.

"It's probably a real trap, is what it is," he says glaring at the sign. "But they'd carry on towards it."

"Then so should we," Beth says firmly. "Did they come this way?"

He nods. "So did the other group."

"Then we've definitely got to go after them," she says. She steps close to him and catches his eyes. "Right?"

He takes a deep breath and stares at her for a minute. Then he cups her cheek and holds her head steady as he looks into her eyes. Beth's breath catches in her throat at his strong grip and the look he's giving her.

"If I said that going after them was a damn fool idea and that it was only going to lead to bad things going down and that I wasn't going to do it and if you had any sense at all, you'd follow me and we'd go off together and find a place to hunker down and be safe," he asks rapidly, his voice never wavering, "would you come with me?"

Beth stares back at him and then smiles. She steps in and cups the back of his head with her hand and pulls his face down to hers.

"You _know_ that I would," she says softly. "Just as _I _know that you'd never ask me to."

His breath leaves him and he presses his lips to her forehead and murmurs against her skin, "Serves me right for falling in with the craziest girl this side of the Mississippi."

Beth laughs and hugs him quickly and tightly then pulls back and looks up at him expectantly.

He throws his hand in the air and says, "All right, fine. Let's go find our goddamn fool of a friend, Rick Grimes and his clan."

The End.


End file.
